We Didn't Know That It Would Blow Up
by Citizenjess
Summary: Jean goes to Magneto in the wake of Charles' departure from the mortal coil. Softly explicit Magneto/Jean; implied Magneto/Charles. Spoilers for the series finale.


Summary: Jean goes to Magneto in the wake of Charles' departure from the mortal coil. Softly explicit Magneto/Jean; implied Magneto/Charles. Title is from Jane's Addiction's "Irresistable Force." Spoilers for the finale of the original animated series.

* * *

><p><strong>We Didn't Know That It Would Blow Up With Such Might<strong>

* * *

><p>He watches her arrive, her small ship noticeable in the atmosphere several minutes before she makes contact, with wry disbelief. That she does not see fit to use what he knows full well is a fully operable invisibility shield presupposes many things about the outcome of her visit. He debates whether or not to be furious about this.<p>

When she finally does touch down, he purposely ignores her, his back turned towards the entrance of his private chambers, largely carved out of rock atop a steep cliff, and infused with tell-tale metals. When at last a confrontation is inevitable, he frowns, but still does not turn around. "Jean Gray," he intones evenly. Finally, he pivots sharply on one heel. "I did not realize you had received a standing invitation to Genosha."

Jean's lips quirk. "I do not come here as your enemy," she replies, and Magneto clenches his fist.

"You do not come here as a friend, either."

Jean appears unfazed. "I come here on behalf of a mutual friend," she says finally, and Magneto glowers at her.

"He is dead, Jean. You know that as well as I." It's been months, yet it still hurts even to think the other man's name. "Whatever foolhardy notions you've toted with you today, I am telling you right now to forget them. They will not bring him back." His teeth are clenched so tightly now that his jaw aches. "Anything you have to say to the contrary is a lie." He turns away again, heart thudding dully in his chest.

Gallingly, this does not seem to be enough to make the young woman go away; either she's terrible at taking hints, Magneto thinks, or she's even more stubborn than he's given her credit for. Either way, the hand on his shoulder galls him, though he only half-heartedly shrugs it away. "The last time I was here, you accused me of lying to torture you," Jean remarks softly. "But if you recall, I was telling the truth then. I am not lying to you now. I have come here in peace; to offer you some sort of consolation, if I may."

"What do you mean?" He frowns stiffly at her anew, and watches her tap two fingers to her temple. She hears him vacillate harshly - the gesture is familiar - and her face belies her sympathy. "You really did love him," she whispers. Magneto says nothing, but then, he doesn't need to.

"I can communicate with him," Jean continues, and Magneto's gaze snaps up unhappily. "Not for long stretches of time," Jean clarifies, "but enough to tell him how things are; I get glimpses of him, too," she explains. "He's doing well. He's lonely, I think, but he's well."

"I see," Magneto intones dully. He considers what Jean is offering, and eventually shakes his head. "It changes nothing," he tells her. "It will not bring him back." If anything, he thinks, seeing Charles, sitting there in his fancy, alien robes, so close, yet so far away, could make things infinitely worse. Bad enough that the few pockets of sleep he does get in the spaces between running a rebellion and his own all-mutant continent are all plagued with Charles Xavier. Sometimes, Magneto wakes up, hard, his face wet, and he can swear that the other man was just there beside him, eyes twinkling kindly, fingers reaching out to caress his jaw. "Oh, Magnus," he would say, "Won't you ever find your peace?" Then he's gone, and Magneto feels the chill of his absence deep within his bones.

Jean seems to understand. She hesitates, however, not yet content to leave, and Magneto finds himself growing impatient. "Go home," he tells her, and this seems to embolden her anew. Stepping closer, she leans in, and he can faintly smell her shampoo. "I miss him, too," she murmurs, and he sighs. Jean cocks her head. "Everybody does," she tells him, "but I was his first student. We shared a special bond; like the two of you did."

"Jean, I really don't see how this is produc-"

"He thought about you, you know. A lot. He still does. He wishes he could thank you for saving his life; for giving him those last few moments with everybody so he could say goodbye properly. He loves you, too," Jean offers, gazing tenderly at the older man's devastated face. "For all of your differences, he never stopped wanting you to be happy. He never stopped ... wanting you." Their faces are close, now, and Magneto stares into Jean's soulful eyes, but remains standing ramrod straight, hands at his sides. "Sometimes," Jean whispers throatily, "I saw things. You. Him. We all miss his mind, but you, Erik" - she speaks the next words against Magneto's quivering mouth - "you mourn the loss of his body, his very soul."

"Jean." It takes great effort to do so, but he manages to move her gently away from him, placing broad hands on her slim shoulders and pushing. His right eyebrow quirks. "Haven't you got that Summers boy to play these games with," he remarks, and Jean shakes her head.

"You misunderstand my intentions. Besides," she adds, and there's the slightest hint of an impish grin on her face; it's almost painfully familiar, "he wouldn't understand."

"Am I supposed to?"

"You miss Charles. I miss Charles. We can miss him together." It's a simple proposal, and Magneto can't help but laugh ruefully.

"I do not need your pity fuck, Jean."

"No," Jean admits, and then she's back again, rubbing her body along his; the tiniest groan escapes, and she knows she has won this round. She leans in and licks the shell of his ear, and then whispers near his face: "But you want it. And that's okay. I want it, too."

He takes her against the wall, strong, young legs wrapped around his waist, red hair splayed and wild like a flame as she bounces in his lap. Hands clutch at his shoulders, and then fists clench around loose strands of his own mane. Jean kisses with passion, ardor; she moans and dots his neck with small kisses as he tugs her close, hands resting on the small of her back, and then arches her back eagerly when he takes one of her pert nipples in his mouth. Like Charles, Jean is adept at siphoning the bulk of her pleasure from the emotions of others, and Magneto can tell that she's riding the wave of his arousal to enhance her own. Knowing this, he thrusts up into her hard, knowing she can handle it.

When she finally comes, she gasps out his name (she calls him "Erik," and he allows it, like he's allowed almost no one else to do), and clings to him bodily as her orgasm crests, again and again. He holds her, too, more out of necessity than anything, and then finally, it's over, and he helps her into a standing position. "You are not to come here again," he tells her sternly, arms crossed. Idly, he watches her dress.

"Of course." Magneto growls a little when this only seems to make Jean smile at him. Stepping close anew, she presses a soft kiss to his cheek, seemingly unbothered by the icy expression aimed at her. "I understand," she promises, but Magneto knows that she will be back; and when that time comes, he can only hope that he has learned to miss Charles Xavier a little less, so that he can tell her 'no,' and mean it.


End file.
